


Sweet Freedom

by wordwinx



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-18 01:32:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordwinx/pseuds/wordwinx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam was once again at a place in his life where his career and his personal life were in conflict.  He really just wanted to go to a party, have a few drinks, and get laid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This is a crunchy fic. That means it is a celebration of Adam's natural maleness . . . a.k.a. hairiness. Also, I decided to use Bridger Clements for the pairing. If you don't like him, this story is not for you. 
> 
> DISCLAIMER: My writing is a little raunchier than normal in this one . . . just in a mood, I guess. My usual readers may be a bit turned off. I'm just sayin' . . . /o\

Adam was at peace, at least for the next five minutes until he felt like he might crawl out of his skin again. He was in a good place, but nothing progressive was happening. That wasn’t really true, but in Adam’s mind anxiety beat accuracy. In reality, Adam was performing pretty often but without the momentum of a tour. His fans, as always, were the most stabilizing force in his career, and when he could be on stage for them, he felt complete. His life had purpose when Adam was giving back. In the past several months, he had been recognized and awarded as a pillar in the gay community. He was proud to be an advocate for civil rights. He got a lot of media attention over it even when he was just going out. It seemed like every time Adam left the apartment, it prompted an immediate media cycle which was annoying but also effective in keeping him visible. He had meetings with his management team who had “ideas” and “prospects” and “strategies” and they kept using words like, “patience” and “soon” and “promise.” He acknowledged that his flair for the dramatic was not necessarily a reflection of real life, but whenever interviewers asked Adam what he was doing, he felt like he could look them square in the eye and say, “Nothing” without hesitation. Whatever might or might not be on the horizon, Adam was not at liberty to say.

The gag order conflicted with Adam’s open nature. It took less and less time to pass between gigs and appearances to make him itch. Adam wanted to work. He said it over and over in his head and to anyone within earshot. “I want to work.” However, the standard answer became, “Have PATIENCE Adam. We’ll work it out SOON, I PROMISE.” Or his other favorite, “You should enjoy this time while you have it because pretty SOON things are really going to heat up!” But when? Soon.

Until then, Adam took their advice and was busy experiencing if not enjoying all his valuable free time. This particular evening he was sitting in a lawn chair at a BBQ with some old friends and relatively new acquaintances that he had reason to trust and admire. Others were strangers he barely knew by name. He was having a hard time fitting in lately because he was gone so much. Adam was always catching up. In spite of how his friends teased him about superstardom, Adam still felt more like a native Hollywood resident than an actual celebrity. When people saw the celebrity before the man, it made him long for the days when he was undiscovered, perpetually struggling between jobs. No matter what, even in the down time, he always felt like he was getting somewhere back then. Now that he had essentially made it, he felt celebrities were supposed to do things besides sit in lawn chairs, waiting.

Social situations were especially awkward when Adam felt restless like this. Adam had played the break-up card until his license to gripe expired. He could no longer rely on that perfect balance between his personal life and career. Deep down, he wondered if he’d jinxed his relationship with Sauli by proudly boasting to the media that he had finally found that magical equilibrium. The universe responded uh, I don’t think so, wonderboy. Now he was practicing coy avoidance like he had secrets in his hair about the next big thing. [PATIENCE>SOON>PROMISE]. Adam couldn’t escape the unpleasant persistence of real world even at a party. There was always that one guy challenging Adam’s resolve to maintain a blissful anonymity.

Random guy making small talk: (admire your work>>>Trespassing #1>>>love it)  
Adam, testing: (thanks>>>favorite track?)  
Random guy changing the subject: (ummmm>>>so third album?)  
Adam, projecting: (in the studio>>>wheels turning>>>no dates yet)  
Douche who won’t go away: (Queen>>>Idol judge>>>Broadway)  
Adam, avoiding: (hope so>>>love to>>>maybe later>>>can’t say)  
Meddling asshole: (the DOMA thing>>>) “Do you think you’ll get married now?”

Adam heard himself say he had no plans to marry but that he was glad to have a choice which, unfortunately, was never enough to end the conversation in his head. Adam’s chest got tight feeling the weight of yet another social obligation. He was bombarded by the expectations of his community and now, suddenly he had traditionally straight customs to contend with. Adam chose to tell them what they wanted to hear. “I’d love to get married someday.” In truth, he didn’t know what he wanted yet. He’d never considered it. Did that diminish his credibility as an entertainer, as a role model? What difference did it make? Would the press be kind enough to call him a bachelor when the years passed and he remained single? Adam sighed. This was bound to become one of those pesky worries that crept out of his subconscious just before he fell asleep.

The option to have a few drinks in a safe setting such as this private BBQ seemed the perfect escape, especially from his own negative thoughts. He had no such luxury in public. In public, there were a few rules of behavior governing the proceedings. Adam had to keep it together enough to stand up for photo ops. The nice ones far outnumbered the nasty ones, but they were strangers who weren’t actually fans, per se. They knew who he was but seemed more interested in looking at the camera lens than his face. Almost always, Adam would wind up putting his arm around someone who had too much perfume or cologne or b.o. and the smell would linger on his clothes reminding him that even his personal space was no longer secured by an exterior shell. The stink of celebrity sunk in, even when he wore protective layers. Adam also had to be sober enough to make a break for the car without falling on his face. The paps were everywhere hoping for something scandalous to chew on. As the poster child for equality, Adam couldn’t afford to feed them and still remain a charity spokesperson. There were too many people he might let down. Surely no one expected him to be a nun, but he was currently fresh out of cute blond boyfriends. Under public scrutiny, Adam had to keep his filter up to flirt correctly. This skill was particularly compromised by overindulgence and the seemingly endless selection of sexy young men. He had to will himself to say, “You’re cute. I like your eyes.” Rather than, “Your ass is fiiiine. Let’s fuck.” For that reason, Adam rarely went to an establishment without one or two of his closest friends who could, in case of emergency, shut him the fuck down and get him the fuck out. It was maddeningly difficult to hook up this way.

Private parties were less complicated. He could relax and have a few drinks, just let himself feel it with little to no accountability whatsoever. Unless . . . unless, someone brought a guest to meet Adam, who didn’t know the drill and got all starry-eyed in his presence - someone who had the nerve to remind him who he was with gushes of unoriginal flattery. Adam always handled it gracefully, excusing himself with subtle detachment while someone schooled the newbie and thumped the idiot who brought him. Adam’s friends were a bit over-protective. Being single made him vulnerable in their eyes. Time and again they attempted to make him a match. These seismic disasters were legendary, establishing an ongoing mantra within his circle: Friends don’t let friends hook Adam up. He appreciated their concern. He did miss having a boyfriend. He missed BEING a boyfriend. Adam decided that unless he wanted to separate himself from the rest of the world, he was just going to have to get used to playing these games. He had to keep putting himself out there even if he had to stumble over his career to do it. 

Adam’s friend, Sam offered him a red cup. He lifted his shades to peer skeptically over the brim and asked what it was. Sam grinned and said, “Mai tai.”

“Oh really?” Sam Sparro knew how to make three drinks. Booze with water. Booze with soda. And booze with juice. “What does a Mai tai have in it?”

“A cherry, wise ass. Now do you want to drink it or wear it?”

Adam took a sip. He coughed slightly after the swallow and wheezed. “You make a good one.”

“You’re welcome.” Sam took a chair beside Adam’s. 

“Are we actually going to eat at some point, or does B-B-Q stand for something else now?”

“Let’s see, that’s a new one . . . L – G - B . . .”

“LGBT-BBQ? We all got a right to eat, dammit.” Adam laughed at himself.

“Apparently, the lamb kabobs need a delicate hand.” When Adam didn’t respond, Sam followed his line of vision and realized he was staring across the way at a guy who waved shyly. “His name is Bridger in case you were wondering.”

“I know.”

“You met him?”

“Yeah, a couple times.”

“Yeah?”

Adam bristled. “So what?”

“So, he’s a photographer which means he’s a model which means he can play guitar which means he wants to be an actor.”

“Which means?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Which means there are a gazillion Bridgers in WeHo alone.”

“He’s harmless.”

“Do what you want.” 

“I was just looking.”

“Looking means shopping.”

“Looking means . . . browsing not buying.” Adam decided to tell him. “We had a thing a few weeks ago.”

That perked Sam’s interest. “Did you know he was going to be here?”

“No.” 

“Ooohh.”

“It is what it is. No nonsense. No strings.”

“I was beginning to think you liked strings.”

“I just don’t have time for that now.” [PATIENCE>SOON>PROMISE] Adam sighed. “I should have called him. Now I’ve waited too long, and it’s all awkward and shit.”

Sam was mildly annoyed that Adam seemed to create unnecessary drama for himself. “Listen, Adam. A friend of mine did a little experiment. He was suffering a self-induced case of social bloat and decided to stop sending texts all of a sudden just to see who would bother to seek him out, ask if he was okay.”

“Is he from around here? THAT was brave. Some of them did, though, right? Tell me that at least a few of them noticed.”

“Most of them did, actually, but not all of them were concerned for his health.”

“What happened?”

“A couple of them called and apologized for things he didn’t even know they did.”

Adam covered his face in second hand embarrassment. “Oh no.”

“Some of them were pissed off that he was snubbing them, but a few still haven’t made any contact whatsoever. Complete silence.”

“So you’re trying to tell me that I was right to stop calling him. That I should just wait for him to call me because if he doesn’t, then he never really cared in the first place. Right?”

“I’m not saying any such thing.”

“Then what does it mean?”

“Nothing. It doesn’t mean a damn thing, Adam.”

“What? Then what the fuck did you tell me for?”

“If one of those people finally texted after months and months of silence, would it mean they had some kind of hidden agenda?”

“No, not necessarily.”

“Would it be appropriate that he should ignore them and give them a taste of their own medicine?”

“No, I don’t think . . .”

“Of course not. Silence perpetuates the fear of rejection, but it really doesn’t mean anything at all until you speak again. It’ll either be yes or no.”

Adam contemplated the situation. “Bridger always says yes.”

“So, what’s the problem? You were liking each other too much? You were enjoying your life too much?”

“It isn’t that simple. Sauli and I split because I was gone all the time. That hasn’t changed. Why put him through it? Why put anyone through it?”

“That’s a cop out. Couples make long distance relationships work every day. It didn’t work for Sauli. That doesn’t mean you have to stop trying. I say you’ve got a fifty-fifty shot of it working.”

“That sounds like marriage, a fifty percent chance.”

“That’s the reality. That’s the natural, organic progression of things, at every turn – a yes, or a no, 50-50.”

Adam slipped the shades lower on his nose for emphasis. “Maybe it was the natural progression of things for us to stop seeing each other.”

“Yet there he beckons with come-fuck-me eyes, and you’re practically salivating.”

“I’m hungry.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

As if on cue, someone called for them to come fill a plate. There was plenty to eat and drink and to laugh about. It was fun, and Adam loosened up along with everyone else. Later, people were carrying leftovers into the house as Adam’s friend Alison was coming out, her husband in tow. Somebody made a cat call and said loud enough for everyone to hear, “What were you two doin’ in there?” Alison played it cool, but her husband blushed totally busted. There was cheering and a round of applause. It was hardly scandalous behavior with this uninhibited crowd.

Sam wrinkled his nose. “I sincerely hope they had manners enough to put out fresh towels.”

Adam snorted. “Really, the bathroom? Puhleese. Amateur.” 

“Too predictable?”

“Too safe.”

“You know you’re not fooling anyone with that whole vanilla bullshit.” Adam tilted his head back and laughed. Sam nudged him. “He’s watching you.”

“I know.”

“So you should go talk to him.”

“What is this, high school?”

“It’s a big house.”

“Stop it.” 

Adam had caught Bridger’s eyes several times, but he had looked away. Adam felt bad. He should have called. They had never been shy with one another before. In fact, Adam estimated they had been naked together more often than clothed. It was just so easy with Bridger. Maybe that lack of resistance was what attracted Adam at first but then ultimately repelled him. Their sexual compatibility far surpassed their capacity to relate to one another intellectually. Bridger was sweet and fun but not sophisticated. Adam wondered when he’d become such a snob. He and Sauli had had difficulty communicating but that was largely due to a language barrier. Sauli was easily frustrated, fiery enough for Adam to realize he had more complicated emotions under the surface than he was able to express. Adam tried and failed to understand why Sauli was able to figure it all out much better when they were apart. 

Since the break up, Bridger was the only one Adam had chosen to date who didn’t expect to be the new boyfriend. They went out. They had fun. They had sex, and it was all effortless. Bridger might sleep over, but he never lingered after breakfast, avoiding that awkward what-now situation. With a peck and a pat he was off. Adam was busy. He wasn’t distracted. He wasn’t obligated. If he called, Bridger was there, but it finally occurred to Adam that something felt wrong. In a very short time, Bridger had become something like a pet – affectionate, loyal, patient. [PATIENCE>SOON>PROMISE] But, there would be no promise. Maybe it bothered Adam that Bridger had never indicated he even wanted one. Adam ended it almost subconsciously by neglecting to call. Time slipped away, and they were over . . . or maybe not. The sun was going down by the time Adam approached him.

“Hey, you.”

“Hey, Adam.

“How’ve you been?”

“Good. You?”

“I’m good.” Adam was trying to think of a way to apologize, but Bridger beat him to it.

“I should have called you.” Adam opened his mouth but closed it again. “You’re always the one who calls, and it was my turn. I’m sorry about that.”

Adam smiled at how ridiculous it is to play these games. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve been really busy too.”

“You had a couple of shows.”

“Yeah, yeah . . . and the Trevor Project thing.”

There was a short silence between them while they both nodded. “I know I said this already, but I think it’s really cool what you’re doing for the community . . . for gay rights for all of us.”

“Awww, thank you.”

“It’s important, Adam. It’s a big deal for people to get married, you know?”

Adam stiffened uncertain where this was going. He feared he’d have to resort to the platitudes of the media. “I uh . . .” Adam cleared his throat. “I didn’t have anything to do with that, but it’s only right for everyone to have the opportunity, I guess.”

“That’s how I feel about it too. I mean, I don’t think I want to . . . get married, I mean.” 

Adam relaxed a bit. “Me either. At least not for now.”

“The way I see it is there’s lots of time for stuff like that. It’s something you have to be ready for.” 

Adam’s smile was flirtatious. “When it’s right, then who knows?”

Bridger blushed. “Yeah, who knows? You know what I really want?”

“What?” Adam knew he still had him and right now he really, really wanted to know what Bridger wanted so he could be the one to give it to him.

“I want to walk down the street and feel like an ordinary guy, you know? Someday – not just in my community but everywhere. Not, hey, there goes a gay guy, but me . . . like, there goes Bridger with his boyfriend.”

“Holding hands.”

“Yeah, . . . holding hands.”

“Right down Melrose.” They understood each other. 

“It could happen. You’re really helping make that happen.” Bridger looked at his feet. “I was on Melrose last week, stopped at McQueen’s.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, they have some new things in stock since we were there last.”

In so many words, Bridger had just admitted he missed him, and that made Adam feel . . . yeah . . . he was feeling it. Adam was suddenly self-conscious about his tank top and flip flops. He made a face and wiggled his body. “I need to get in there and check it out. This ensemble is a bit crunchy.” They laughed. 

“It looks good on you.” Bridger glanced down and back up. “I like the hat. Is it new?”

Adam vividly remembered the first time after they fucked, he had found Bridger in the tub with a hat on. They didn’t leave his apartment that day. He wanted to tell Bridger he wasn’t seeing anyone and ask him if he had moved on. “No, nothing’s new. Did you buy anything?”

Bridger shook his head slowly. “I was just browsing.”

It was plain to see that the mischief in Bridger’s eyes was an invitation. Why not? Adam looked around then took Bridger by the hand. They went inside and ducked into a guestroom/den situation and shut the door. There was some kind of hipster area rug like a faux animal skin under the ottoman. Adam and Bridger grinned. Score.

They had lots of practice undressing each other. They stripped off their damp clothing and stepped into each other’s arms, an immediately familiar place. Bridger snuggled under Adam’s chin without going to tip toes. They fit, and it suddenly felt fantastic just to hold him for a minute. He had to admit it was more than physical attraction. Adam honestly liked him. 

Bridger was not pretentiously emo or a metrosexual salon addict. He was perhaps, instead a representative of the new, post-gay ideal. He kept himself healthy and looking sharp, but he didn’t shave or pluck or primp unless he was going for a particular look for work. Bridger was small and finely boned, but he was far from just an ordinary twink. The first time they had sex, Adam was unexpectedly turned on by his calluses and scruffy patches of hair. He had a scar or two with stories to go with. There was a genuine quality in Bridger that Adam admired, coveted even – a celebration of maleness no less desirable for lack of refinement. Bridger was totally a guy’s guy. The fact that he liked to suck cock and take it up the ass was the only absolute feature of his orientation. Being with him, Adam realized that he had a bit of the all-American boy inside him as well. He was down with boots and flannel. His selections might be wedge heels and pink plaid, but nobody was pretending to be a lumberjack here. Masculine was a relative term, and they were about to fuck on the floor – close enough. 

Bridger inhaled deeply the toasty quality of Adam’s skin. His body had absorbed the heat of the setting sun just like the ground does. Adam Lambert – literally, man of a bright land was especially down to earth lately in harmony with his masculinity but without a drop of machismo. It was sexy as hell! When Adam laid Bridger onto the rug, he was all man . . . au naturel – no polish or product. Hair fell softly across his forehead. His eyes were shining beneath them. Hair surrounded the plump lips Bridger was kissing, and left the skin prickled and tingling on his neck. Hair lay feathered in fragrant whisps under his arms. Hair spread the breadth of his freckled chest and nestled the pink nipples which crested under Bridger’s palms then bloomed inside his mouth. Hair sprouted wild and unruly low, low down below his tummy accentuating his gender, most definitely lush and inviting. Bridger journeyed the terrain of Adam’s body from meadow to mountain with his fingers and his mouth. The flat of his tummy, the cheeks of his ass – plain after plain of soft, silky skin. Adam was an atlas of tangible pleasure.

It was truly humbling the way Bridger seemed to worship Adam’s body, but Adam finally held him still. He hadn’t been with anyone since they were together last, not his longest dry spell by far, but long enough that this kind of attention, like a perfect storm was having the maximum effect. Before Adam knew what was happening, Bridger was tapping Adam’s dick against his chin and sticking a finger in this hole. This was going to happen waaaay too fast. It wouldn’t be fair to go to all the trouble to sneak away just to come down Bridger’s throat in six strokes then go all mellow and flake out after. Where was the challenge in that? The least Adam could do was get him off first. Bridger squirmed but eventually succumbed to the power of Adam’s arms and his eyes. Adam had his attention. He’d shifted his position, suddenly dominant like flipping a switch. Bridger grinned smugly, but Adam’s expression was like a lust punch to the gut. Bridger’s eyes widened in wonderment as if to ask, oh geezus, what are you going to do to me?

Bridger whispered. “Adam?”

Adam put his finger to his lips. “Shhhhh.”

Adam pushed Bridger upward as he sank down. He lifted Bridger’s legs over his shoulders, handling him like a ragdoll. Bridger crossed his ankles and grappled for a hold in Adam’s hair. Adam took Bridger apart with his tongue. Bridger had no choice but to grind into Adam’s face. His tongue, broad and flat rolled Bridger’s balls around and around then into his mouth, suckling each one gently tugging the plush skin with his lips. He licked the underside of Bridger’s shaft then sucked the head of his cock into his cheek, letting it glide along the side of his teeth. He bobbed his head over and over varying the pressure of his lips then squeezed Bridger’s ass extra hard to hold him still. He breathed deeply through his nose and eased Bridger’s cock down his throat. He relaxed a second longer until his throat finally constricted, and he coughed. He closed his mouth over the shaft again and pulled off with a plop. He ignored Bridger’s moans and gurgles. Adam buried his muzzle into the bend of Bridger’s leg between his thigh and his junk. He pointed his tongue and pressed it firmly into the crease making a long wet swipe. He blew cool air along the wet path until Bridger shuddered and whined. It was too much, Bridger pulled pretty hard on Adam’s ears. Adam eased off and nibbled on Bridger’s hip bones instead. He felt Bridger stretch away and move the heap of his clothes. He was just getting ready to sink back down and finish him off when Bridger said his name in a breathy whisper.

“Adam.” Adam tried to respond but no sound came. “Adam.” Bridger put a condom in Adam’s hand. “Please, for the love of God, just fuck me, pleeeeaaasssse.”

Adam loved to make a boy beg. Bridger was particularly accommodating. He needed very little manipulation in order to prepare. For Bridger, a pre-lubed condom and a deep breath would do the trick. Whether he was easily accessible due to plenty of experience or lucky anatomy, who was Adam to judge? After all, Adam also had plenty of experience and the kind of lucky anatomy that made for wickedly, exquisite sex. He turned Bridger onto his stomach and pulled up his hips. Adam stood on his knees, positioning himself between Bridger’s legs, and slipped on the condom in seconds. He gave Bridger’s cheeks a deep tissue squeeze lifting and separating them in one continuous motion. Bridger immediately bore back presenting himself without reservation. Adam spit and circled his thumb over Bridger’s hole, a warning. Bridger took a couple deep, deep breaths, then Adam entered him from tip to base in one slow push. Bridger’s arms buckled beneath him. He turned his cheek to the rug and panted. Adam pulled out and drove back in. His head fell back on his shoulders then forward again, chin to chest. He angled Bridger exactly the way he wanted. He leaned over him and snapped his hips again and again. The sweat ran down his neck and glistened on his arms, his bulging muscles beginning to burn. Bridger’s back and thighs were slick from contact with him. When Bridger began to go limp, Adam wrapped an arm around his body and held him up as he sat back on his heels. His lips lingered on Bridger’s shoulder as he reached around to finish him off. They climaxed within seconds of one another – hearts racing, breaths shallow. Just as they were about to part, a thunderous boom startled them both. 

“Whoa, what the ffffuuuhh?” 

It happened again followed by a roar of laughter. “They’ve started without us.” 

Bridger and Adam had to help each other get to their feet. They laughed in their clumsy haste to clean up in the dark and get dressed. They snuck back into the yard while everyone’s attention was turned to the far horizon. There was another whistle and BOOM followed by a unanimous cheer as a crackle of sparks fell from the sky.

“Look, Adam!” Bridger pointed to the meteor-like assent of the next explosion.

Adam looked at Bridger instead. “Happy Independence Day.” 

Bridger put his arms around Adam’s waist, and they kissed. “That was . . .” He stopped and started again. “I don’t know about tomorrow, but today . . . this is the best 4th of July I’ve ever had.”

“Me too.” Adam felt more carefree than he had in months. The hassles of his political obligations didn’t seem so overwhelming anymore. The benefactor of his efforts had always been his community but now, that community had a face. Maybe Sam was right. There probably were a gazillion other Bridgers out there, and Adam wanted to make a world that regarded them as ordinary boys – included in society, equal under the law.

Sam came up beside them. “So, I see the two of you didn’t miss the fireworks after all.”

Adam smirked. “It seemed like the perfect day to take a few liberties . . . pursue a little happiness.”

Sam was agreeable. “Hey, it’s a free country.”

Then they all jumped with excitement as a new burst of light illumined the sky where there had been only darkness before.


End file.
